The
critique of the book Breakfast with
Lucian A Portrait of the Artist -
Vintage Books, London, 2015,
(see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2016/02/bespoke-brilliance-trials-of-quirky.html
), pointed out the quirky
indulgence and awkwardness of the graphics
that seemed just too clever to be sensible: too
'arty-farty;'
ill-considered. After reading the book, one
might be tempted to note that the graphics could have been inspired
by the life – Lucian Freud's life. What
could be more appropriate?
His life was
chaotic; indulgent; self-important;
self-centred. He knew no guilt, and had
little respect
for others; his
lovers. He was the core, the linchpin of
his circle of 'friends,' and demanded secrecy between all of the
separate involvements;
independent knowledge. Everything centred on Lucian. Only he could
share the experiences – and he did freely, to suit his own purposes
and whims irrespective of others.
He
seemed to seek sex anywhere and everywhere. If he wasn't painting, he
was womanising; fucking. One is tempted to note that the probing eye
that has to delve deep into the crevice of the binding of the book in
order to read it, might reflect the Freudian enterprise of what he
simply described as 'having a wank' (his term) – plonking the penis
into any crevice for his indulgence, completely free of any responsibility, never
concerned with outcomes. Toing and froing between women and men in
astonishing concentric circles of mothers, friends, accomplices,
others' lovers, wives, sons, and daughters; or just, occasionally,
anyone who knocked on the door. Gosh, even the author of Breakfast
with Lucian got involved with a daughter of a Lucian lover who
became Freud’s first wife. Did Geordie Greig feel it so necessary to become a
part of the ‘Freud’ world, maybe to gain Lucian's confidence? He
tells how he always wanted to interview Lucian Freud, or get him to
write a piece for the Tatler magazine, the publication edited
by Greig.
Painting
and the act of sex were not unconnected. According to John
Richardson, for Lucian they were interchangeable. 'He turns sex into
art and art into sex, the physical manifestation of his life
expressed through paint. His creativeness was very akin to fucking.
The sex act and the intellectual act – or creativeness, or whatever
you call it – of painting, were in some ways interchangeable.'
(p.139 BWL)
The
graphic layout of Breakfast with Lucian is awkward, seemingly
as graceless as the life full of parading and pomposity that it
records. Freud loved being a part of the elite, the upper crust, the
aristocracy, (Geordie Greig’s great-grandfather was Lord Mowbray),
just as much as he loved being a part of the local criminal world.
The chaos of his self-centred life seems to have been reflected in
the graphics of the book that demand twisting, manipulating, probing,
spreading, for the read: many awkward orientations that delve deep
into crevices. Male or female, Lucian seemed interested in getting
his dick into it. In
what appears to be the same self-conscious way, the reader has to get
the eye into the book. In this Freudian manner, the designer seems to
have had little consideration for the experience of the reader; or is it pure cynicism - maybe happenstance?
It
is a long stretch to justify poor design in this way, but it is an
interesting proposition to ponder. The 'Freud' life gained its
prestige and interest from his legendary grandfather, Sigmund Freud,
who delved into sexual lives psychoanalytically, creating the word
'Freudian.' The grandson seemed to have made his life an example, a
re-enactment of the theory – fuck anything; paint it; fuck it;
leave it; repeat again and again, with no necessary linear order or
sequence, or conscience. Rather, there was a layering, of bodies and
people – literally: and lives, willy-nilly, (yes, again literally).
Freud created a complete unconcerned muddle of his life – a little
like the graphics. Still the book is worth a read, if only to raise
questions about art and its elite world:
Is
it essential to be a recusant ‘fucker’ to be an artist? Consider Francis Bacon, a good friend of Lucian Freud, some might say an inspiration. Is it essential for the artist to be part of
the aristocracy, or loved or intrigued by it; to fuck around in the
glory of super self-indulgence and a surplus of money as a 'Bohemian' with quaint 'idiosyncrasies' (p.180 BWF)?
A painter must think of
everything he sees as being there entirely for his own use and
pleasure. Lucian Freud (BWL p.129)
Such
is life; what is art?
Consider
the latest $110.5 million for the Basquiat - see:
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/18/arts/jean-michel-basquiat-painting-is-sold-for-110-million-at-auction.html?_r=0
For the Love of God Damien Hirst 2007
(asking price 50 million pounds)
Hallucinatory Head Damien Hirst
£36,800.00 inc VAT
Art
is money? Does money know art? Does money make art? How does this
art reflect life? Does it? Can it? Should it?
Transcendent Head Damien Hirst
£36,800.00 inc VAT
Damien Hirst and his sculpture For the Love of God
Coatlicue, the Aztec goddess of the land and fertility
What
is art, that thou are ‘moneyful’ of it? (apologies to Psalmist)
Acquavella was on a different scale. He travelled by private jet. He never queried price. He had a palace of a gallery in Manhattan. He was rich and patrician and already dealt in major pictures by Picasso and Matisse. Kirkman had always been unable to find anyone who wanted to give Lucian a commercial show in New York. That changed in 1992 when Acquavella put his muscle and money behind Lucian to propel him into the big time. (p.208 BWL)
Acquavella was on a different scale. He travelled by private jet. He never queried price. He had a palace of a gallery in Manhattan. He was rich and patrician and already dealt in major pictures by Picasso and Matisse. Kirkman had always been unable to find anyone who wanted to give Lucian a commercial show in New York. That changed in 1992 when Acquavella put his muscle and money behind Lucian to propel him into the big time. (p.208 BWL)
'Breakfast with Lucian is a superb, flawlessly crafted portrait of about as messy a life as was ever lived.' TOM WOLFE #
'There were no rules really.' (p.199 BWL)
Kate Moss and Lucian Freud in bed
Freud in bed
This launched him into
the world of those with cultural power and money. It would remain
thus. (p.228 BWL)
♥
Jade encrusted skull from Oaxaca, Mexico
#
P.S.
Here
one thinks of Rolf Harris: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2014/07/singer-and-song.html
Harris is currently out on bail, and is again in court on sex
charges. This entertainer / artist, (he, too, has painted the queen),
has been haunted by reports of his sex life and incarcerated for it.
Lucian’s antics seem to be somewhat plauded, or tolerated, with the
“He is an artist” argument: the greater the artist, the greater the deviation accepted. One has to ask: did Harris get
involved in a different class of life that has a less ‘alternative’
view of things, a less introvert acceptance of difference; one with
opinions less 'open' than 'aristocratic' attitudes that seem to know how to
keep things quiet and handle scandals? Or is it that he is not a 'great' artist?
See: http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2017/05/freud-on-painting.html
See: http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2017/05/freud-on-painting.html
NOTE
31
October 2019
To
get a better understanding of the bohemian ways of the British art
world, the role of sex and the importance of contacts, see:
Jon Lys Turner The
Visitors’ Book In Francis Bacon’s Shadow: The Lives of Richard
Chopping and Denis Wirth-Miller Constable 2017.
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